


The Dragon Queen

by Loeka



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, In Which The Dragonborn Escapes Helgen With Ulfric Stormcloak, because why not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-01 09:52:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8619802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loeka/pseuds/Loeka
Summary: She bared her teeth as a wild animal might, and for a single moment, Ulfric did not see an elf.He saw a dragon.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: for general racism (because Skyrim) and references to past torture and rape

Ulfric Stormcloak stared into the fire, exhausted down to his very soul.

This small cave provided adequate protection against the elements. The entrance was protected by simple yet effective traps. There was a source of fresh water nearby. Supper had been hunted and consumed. His outer clothes were laid out to dry. The fire and the blankets wrapped around him were keeping him warm.

For the first time in what felt like forever, there was nothing immediate that demanded his attention. Which meant that Ulfric should be worrying about his people, should be wondering how many of them made it out. Wonder if any had made it out at all. He should be worrying if anyone else had made it out, worry whether the Imperials were in pursuit. Worse, whether elves were as well.

Yet Ulfric could not find the energy to do so. He felt wrung out in the way only senseless battle could cause, tired and aching in a way that went far deeper than the mere physical.

He could still hear the screams of his people as they burned alive.

"The fire won't last the night."

The words startled him, tension returning as he lifted his gaze towards his companion. A companion Ulfric could not believe he'd forgotten was there even for a second, and it was only with the greatest of efforts he prevented himself from showing his disgust.

A high elf looked back at him from across the fire. The shadows caused by the flickering light made the angles of her face seem even harsher, the sharpness of her bone structure as inhuman as the eyes existing entirely out of shades of green, broken only by the black of her pupils. And while the glow of the fire made her hair and skin appear copper like a Redguard's, Ulfric knew it was only an illusion, knew both were golden in a way no Men's could ever be. Though the fire obscured the unnaturalness of that, if only a little. Yet looking at her, Ulfric could not help but see–

At least her ears were covered by her hair.

"I'm aware of this," he returned, attempting to keep his revulsion from sounding through. He would not bring dishonor to himself like that. Not after the elf had saved his life.

Talos, how it burned to admit that, how it made shame and fury rise. Ulfric was incredibly grateful that he'd saved her own life as well.

He was not in the elf's debt.

"Then what do you propose as a solution, Jarl Ulfric?" The elf asked in a voice just as mocking as–

Ulfric closed his eyes. This elf was not them and he was not there. He'd not been there for decades, had clawed his way to freedom, had escaped their clutches and returned home.

A home taken over by strangers with familiar faces. A home that was no longer home at all.

A home that was still worth fighting for. Still worth dying for.

She always would be.

"The best solution is to sleep together."

The words made Ulfric's eyes snap open and he stared at the elf in absolute shock. Stared at her inhuman eyes, her too sharp features, the illusion of a Redguard's hair and skin.

Some might call her beautiful. She was short for a high elf, but that meant she was still tall compared to other races. And while she was lean and angular in the way all elves were, she possessed just enough muscles and curves that she could be considered attractive.

Ulfric had to swallow down a surge of bile.

The elf tilted her head, a slow smile growing as she continued watching him with the same detached amusement she'd shown the entire time they'd been traveling the wilderness.

"My, who'd have ever guessed that the leader of the Stormcloaks had such a dirty mind?"

"Do not mock me, elf," he warned, cold fury rising at the amusement that reminded him too much of–

The elf chuckled. "Peace, Jarl Ulfric, I wasn't propositioning you. Though if you're interested, well, I'm definitely not opposed," she invited with a smile that might be enticing to some.

Ulfric's nausea grew.

"Then explain the meaning behind your words," Ulfric forced himself to order in a steady voice. He would not allow the elf to goad him into acting dishonorably.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I doubt even you can survive sleeping in this cave without added heat." The laughter dancing in those inhuman eyes made him clench his jaw.

The elf was right. Without an additional source of warmth, both of them would freeze to death before morning, no matter the blankets they'd managed to bring along. Had Ulfric not been so exhausted, he would not have needed the elf to point this out.

"Is your kind not even capable of keeping a fire lit throughout the night?" he demanded as an alternative to sharing body heat, because the thought of _touching_ a high elf–

_You Nords are such a foolishly stubborn species. Simply tell us what we wish to know and the pain will end._

Ulfric wrenched his mind away from the memories, concentrated on keeping his breathing steady as he reminded himself that this elf was not them, that he was not there, he'd escaped, was free, would never again allow himself to fall into their hands.

It had been a long time since he'd needed to remind himself of these things so strongly.

"My kind?" the elf asked, her taunting mirth making it that much harder to remain in control, to remember that she was not them–

"Are you not a mage, elf?" he returned, not quite managing to keep the revulsion out of his voice.

Ulfric knew what magic was capable of, knew it was neither inherently good nor bad.

He knew _exactly_ how the high elves had perverted every form of it.

_Oh dear, that was an artery. How fortunate that my kind possesses the gift of magic, you would have expired long ago had we not. Men have such fragile bodies, another sign of the inferiority of your species. As though there were not enough of those already. Now then, shall we continue?_

"I'm not a mage." The elf's bemused sounding lie made him sneer. A high elf without magic was like a Khajiit without fur. It simply did not happen.

The elf chuckled. "I'm not lying, Jarl Ulfric. I don't have any magicka whatsoever."

"You are a high elf," he pointed out her lie in another voice that did not quite manage to contain his disgust.

"You sound remarkably like my parents, they couldn't accept my lack of magic either."

The thought of having anything in common with high elves, no matter that they were strangers, made a grimace escape his control. But, he was forced to admit, the elf _might_ not be lying. Ulfric had not seen her cast any kind of spell during their escape, a fact made much more noticeable by her being a high elf. She'd not cast any spell during their entire trek through the wilderness either.

Was it only this morning that he'd been certain his end was nigh? It felt as though it had happened a lifetime ago.

"So then, Jarl Ulfric, are you willing to share a bed with an elf? Or will you choose to freeze to death instead?"

"Do not pretend your own life is not at stake," he snapped back as his control broke. The elf's constant attitude of indifferent entertainment was grating on his already frayed nerves in the worst of ways.

Ulfric wondered if it was merely an act so as to not appear weak, or whether the elf was truly uncaring about what seemed to be everything. Neither would surprise him.

"True. I however, have no issues in sharing a bed with someone as fine as yourself."

Ulfric grit his teeth as he battled another wave of nausea. He would not allow the elf's taunts to cloud his judgement.

To survive the night, he needed an additional source of warmth. Unfortunately, the heavy rain prevented him from going out to find more kindle. It was a miracle they'd even managed to gather enough to create a fire capable of cooking their dinner in the first place.

The elf was right. The best, the only option either of them had, was to share body heat.

Yet he knew he would not be able to get any kind of rest if they did. And Ulfric _needed_ to rest. He'd not had a good night's sleep since the ambush at Darkwater Crossing, and the escape from Helgen had demanded almost more than his already fatigued body had been able to spare. Ulfric truly did not know how he'd managed to hike through the wilderness for as long as he had. For that matter, he did not know how he'd managed to avoid serious injury during the chaos at Helgen, though he was immensely grateful for it.

The Gods had not abandoned him yet.

Ulfric did know why he was still awake, no matter the exhaustion pressing down on him. The high elf's presence did not allow him to lower his guard enough to fall asleep. Having to touch her would only make that so much worse.

Except he had no choice. Not if he wanted to live.

Ulfric would _not_ let all he'd fought for so long be in vain by dying, would not let the deaths of all those who'd given their lives for their home be wasted, be _meaningless_.

"You'll be bound," he declared to the elf, for that was the only way there could even be the slightest chance of him getting any kind of rest.

The elf threw back her head and laughed, the sound of unadulterated merriment making Ulfric clench his jaw with aggravation once more.

"I must say, bondage isn't my usual style. But for you, I'll gladly make an exception," the elf finished with a grin that showed an unsettling amount of teeth.

"This is not up for discussion," he could not help but snap once more, her ridiculing more than his worn out mind could bear.

"You sound like you believe I'm making fun of you, Jarl Ulfric," the elf continued mocking him with an even wider grin, and this time Ulfric had to resist the urge to physically assault her. "I assure you, nothing could be further from the truth."

"You'll be gagged as well," he declare, the desire to have the elf shut up overwhelming all else.

The elf's grin dropped and Ulfric instantly reached for his sword as a sense of lethal danger filled the air.

"No." The refusal was absolute and unyielding, those inhuman eyes filled with the promise of death as they held his own.

"You'd accept being bound but not being gagged?" he returned softly as the rush of battle took over, his senses sharpening and time itself seeming to slow down.

Ulfric was acutely aware of the daggers laying within easy reach of the elf. He was even more aware of the hands that made no move to grasp them. Yet.

"You'll find I will accept a great many things, including being bound, blinded and deafened. But heed my warning, Ulfric Stormcloak," the elf returned just as softly. She bared her teeth as a wild animal might, and for a single moment, Ulfric did not see an elf.

He saw a dragon.

Ulfric pushed the memory of this morning away, could not allow himself to be distracted now that the elf had turned hostile.

"If you _ever_ attempt to take my voice, I will kill you."

Ulfric did not doubt the truth behind her words, not after seeing the elf tear through any who stood in the way of her escape from Helgen. He would not be so foolish as to underestimate her either, for the savagery she'd shown was second only to the skill it had been performed with.

If the elf attacked, Ulfric would be ready.

For several moments that lasted an eternity, neither of them moved. Then the elf tilted her head and smiled with the same detached bemusement as before.

Her eyes still held the promise of death.

"Come now, is attempting to gag me truly necessary? I mean you no harm after all. I also don't relish the thought of what I'd need to do with your corpse in order to survive the night," the elf threatened in a deceptively light voice. Ulfric clenched his jaw and resisted the instinctive urge to kill her this very instant.

She was _not_ them.

"You will be bound, elf. But I'll not gag you," he relented, for he held no desire to fight her either. Not when she was not them. He would defend himself, but he would not be the first to attack.

The elf had saved his life. No matter that he'd saved hers as well, no matter that he was not in her debt, his honor would not allow him to act in any other way.

"Thank you for your kindness and generosity, Jarl Ulfric," the elf mocked as her entire countenance became vaguely entertained once more, the promise of death gone as suddenly as it had appeared.

Ulfric forced himself to let go of his sword.

The elf gave another grin with too many teeth, and Ulfric immediately grasped his sword again as she stood up. The blankets fell from her shoulders, giving her greater mobility, but her new position also put the daggers laying on the ground further out of her reach.

"Well then, shall we?" the elf asked as she held out her wrists towards him with an exaggerated flourish. It took a moment for Ulfric to even understand what she was referring to, his mind still analyzing things as he would in battle.

"Now?" he returned, suspicion rising at the elf's initiative. It was one thing to agree to be bound, another thing entirely to volunteer for it. Especially if the elf truly did not possess magic. Though Ulfric still doubted that claim. Strongly.

If she used magic against him, he would Shout her to pieces.

"I don't know about you, but I long for sleep. It's been an eventful day after all." The elf's casual dismissal of all that happened, the dismissal of those _lost_ , made Ulfric grit his teeth as he resisted the urge to strike her. Instead, he pulled the blankets off his shoulders and used his sword to cut off stripes of fabric.

He ignored the elf's chuckle.

After he finished his task, he laid down his sword, got up and moved to stand in front of the elf. Who was still holding her wrists towards him expectantly.

Without the blankets covering her and seeing so much of that unnatural skin, it was even harder to keep in mind he'd freeze to death if they did not share body heat.

No, it was not harder to keep in mind. It was simply that this need seemed insignificant compared to the overwhelming revulsion that rose at the thought of having to _touch_ a high elf. This was made impossibly worse by the elf's inhuman eyes wandering down his body with open appreciation.

Ulfric struggled through another wave of nausea, even as he could not help but shiver with disgust.

"Turn around," he ordered. With another unsettling grin, the elf obeyed. Ulfric wasted no time in pulling her arms behind her and began binding them together. He took care that he did not cause the elf pain or discomfort. This might be necessary, but hurting her would be needlessly cruel. The elf had done nothing to deserve that. Yet.

She had saved his life.

Ulfric allowed himself a silent sigh. It... might be possible that he was overreacting. A little.

She was a high elf. He could act no other way.

Ulfric finished tying her hands together in a way that would only cause discomfort and pain if the elf attempted to get free, before he gave the bindings a thorough inspection, testing their strength.

They would do.

He bend down to gather the elf's blankets and kept a sharp eye on her as she tested the limits of the slight mobility her arms had left.

"My, you must have a lot experience with this. These are exceptionally good knots," the elf taunted as she turned around to face him. Ulfric resisted the urge to lash out at her, instead moving towards his own blankets. He knelt down and arranged them all in an approximation of a bedroll, as close to the fire as safety allowed.

Tomorrow, his back would not be grateful to him for sleeping on the ground.

"Come here," he ordered. The elf obeyed with yet another unsettling grin, never losing that aggravating sense of detached amusement. But she did not bring along her daggers.

"Are you sure you aren't interested in even more intimate activities? I feel like you'd be a very... assertive lover," the elf invited as she sat down the blankets, once more giving a smile that might be enticing to some. Once more, Ulfric only felt nauseous.

He grasped her feet and started tying them together as well.

"I'll take that as a no. A pity," the elf said, and the disappointment almost sounded real.

Ulfric ignored the shameful desire to break his word and gag her anyway.

"Lay down," he ordered. The elf obeyed with a chuckle.

She followed his commands with an ease that was truly astonishing to see from one of her kind. Yet at the same time, the elf showed that sense of effortless superiority that was so intimately familiar to him, and Ulfric knew she was only obeying his commands because she felt like doing so, not out of any fear or respect.

He reminded himself once again that this elf was not them, despite the similarities in her attitude. Some similarities.

Similarities of the worst kind.

Ulfric gazed down at the elf, and no matter that she was bound, no matter that he knew he needed to do this, Ulfric could not bring himself to lay down next to her.

The elf was _looking_ at him, the appreciation she showed even more abhorrent than before, impossible not to be overwhelmed by the memories, the rage and hatred and shame–

_I must say, you have impressed me. I have never known one of your species to be quite this foolish. I believe it is time to try something different._

_If pain will not break you, perhaps pleasure will._

He surged forward, grasped the elf's shoulders and yanked her to her side, forcing her to _stop looking at him_. The elf began to turn her head towards him, but Ulfric quickly tangled a hand through her hair and ensured the elf kept those eyes averted from him.

"Do _not_ move," he ordered as he desperately fought to remain in control, to keep the memories locked down, to remember where he was, remember–

It would be so easy to ensure they could never defile him again, so easy make them pay...

"Are you attempting to take my voice, Ulfric Stormcloak?" The soft and lethally spoken words made Ulfric snap back to himself, and it was with rising horror and shame that he saw one of his hands had grasped the elf by the throat. Not firmly, no, his grip was deceptively gentle. Deceptively tender.

Ulfric released her throat as though burned. But he did not let go of her hair, forced the elf to keep those eyes averted, could not have them look at him, not when she–

She was _not_ them.

Ulfric dug his nails into his own palm as hard as possible and closed his eyes. He focused on keeping his breathing steady, focused on the scents of dirt and moss, the sound of falling rain and the crackling of the fire.

She was not them and he was not there.

"...Apologies. That was shameful of me," he forced himself to admit out loud as he opened his eyes.

The elf chuckled, all sense of danger gone as she returned to being vaguely entertainment, no matter the grip he still had on her hair.

"Apologies accepted, Jarl Ulfric Though if I may, I have a request."

"What is it," he returned curtly. Right now, Ulfric would grant a great many more requests than he otherwise would.

The elf had saved his life, and he'd nearly repaid her with death. It was a stain on his honor that could never be erased.

He would not, _could_ not allow her to turn those eyes towards him. Not when it was so hard to remember that she was not them and he was not there. Not even if that was her request.

Oh, but how that made him hate them even more, hate that even after so much time had passed, part of him was still controlled by them, that some of his actions were still not his own, that he was still _reacting_ because of what had been done to him, what he'd done in return–

_Thank you for your cooperation. Rest assured, we will put this information to good use._

"Lay down and pull the blankets up. I'm rather cold and would very much like for that to be rectified."

Ulfric stared down at the elf, for one moment completely off balance. He felt a fleeting smile appear and did not quite know what had caused it, did not understand where this flicker of amusement came from. Perhaps it was the confusingly similar yet dissimilar attitude this elf showed compared to them. Perhaps it was his exhaustion making him feel things he otherwise never would.

In the end, the reason was not important, just as that flicker of amusement was not important. It was only a brief moment of irrationality.

"Very well," he allowed and forced himself to let go of her hair. Thankfully, the elf kept those eyes averted. Ulfric laid down behind her and ignored the sharp rise in nausea at being so close to a high elf as he pulled up the blankets, ensuring both of them were adequately covered.

He was acutely aware of every part of himself that touched the high elf.

It managed to make his nausea rise even higher.

"Much better," the elf declared in a satisfied voice. Combined with their close contact, Ulfric had to force himself not to throw up. Instead, he brought his arms up around the elf and pulled her close. Not to share as much warmth as possible, though that was an added advantage, but to ensure she had as little mobility as was possible. She could still use magic of course, but given Ulfric's own position, he'd only need to Shout one Word in order to snap her neck. Their agonizing close proximity also meant there was not a single change of the elf dodging his Shout.

Ulfric did his best to ignore to the way the elf pushed back against his body with a pleased hum, ignored how she almost seemed to _snuggle_ against him. The elf let out a satisfied sigh. Ulfric shivered with disgust and closed his eyes so that he would no longer have to look at the high elf he was touching.

"Oh, this is very nice. Who would've thought a day that started so horribly would have such a pleasant ending?"

"Are you truly so callous? Do you not still hear the cries of agony and smell the stench of death? Do you not feel the blood of all those you cut down staining your hands?" Ulfric demanded, not even understanding why he was doing so. He knew what the answer would be.

"Not really." As expected, the elf sounded vaguely entertained and utterly uncaring. Ulfric let out a sound of disgust.

"Your kind never ceases to amaze me," he told her truthfully, not even attempting to keep the revulsion out of his voice.

"Why thank you. Though really, using me as a standard for anything isn't a wise decision. I'm what you'd call exceptional."

"Arrogant as well as heartless. Typical elf."

"So I've been told many times. Well, the first two at least, I've never been accused of being typical before. My congratulations on being the first." The elf's mocking reply made him let out a tired sigh. This was pointless.

"Elf, shut up and go to sleep."

"Since you ask so nicely."

Mercifully, the elf did indeed shut up after that, and it was not long before he heard her breathing deepen in a way that indicated sleep.

To Ulfric's great surprise, he soon felt sleep pull him under as well.


	2. Chapter 2

He was holding something warm.

His nose was cold.

Ulfric pushed his nose deeper into that pleasant warmth and felt soft strands tickle his face. He smelled sweat, smoke, dirt and something... indefinable. Something wild and free.

It reminded him of the way the air felt after a storm, the haunting remnants of power and violence that still whispered across the land.

It reminded him of home.

Ulfric pulled the warmth even closer, burrowing his nose into that comforting scent. The warmth let out a pleased hum.

What?

Ulfric opened his eyes, saw golden hair and a pointed ear– _scrambled_ away, almost getting tangled in the blankets, nothing but a mindless need to escape, frantic and panicked and–

_You should feel honored, never before have I touched one of your species like this. I find it even more revolting than I thought it would be. Are you still not willing to talk? No? Then I suppose I have no choice but to continue, no matter my disgust. You however, will enjoy this._

_I will make you enjoy this_.

Ulfric threw up.

"Well this is unexpected." They were _amused_ , his weakness a joy to see, delighting in his pain, humiliation, torment, shame, revulsion, _pleasure_ –

"Oh." The impossible awe in one of their voices snapped his mind into focus, made him remember where he was, who this elf was, and Ulfric realized just what he was about to unleash as he tasted the Force on the verge of becoming real–

Ulfric snapped his jaw shut and grit his teeth as hard as he could. He ignored the agony of trapping the Words in his lungs as he fought against what should've been Unrelenting, struggling to make it relent instead.

The elf watched him with a predatory stillness he'd only ever seen from one of the beastfolk. She did not speak.

Ulfric took carefully measured breaths through his nose as he battled the nature of the Words to be real, forcing them to become dormant once more. Eventually, he succeeded. Ulfric unclenched his jaw and let out a hissed breath, his lungs still burning with the aftermath of holding the Words captive.

The elf let out a sound of repulsive longing as she kept looking at him the way a sabre cat would watch its next meal.

His sword was laying near the elf, but it was not within her immediate reach. His own movements had brought him besides her own daggers. The elf's bound limbs meant she would not be able to free herself before he could overpower her, but only as long as she did not use magic. If she did use magic, Ulfric would awaken the Words once more and this time, he would not hold them back.

"What was that?" the elf whispered, her voice filled with a yearning that was both abhorrent and something he'd never heard from one of her kind before.

Ufric ignored the elf's question, instead reminding himself once more of where he was and that this elf was not them. He reached for the elf's daggers as he gathered saliva and swirled it around his mouth, before he spit on the ground in an effort to get rid of the taste of vomit. He was only moderately successful. Deciding to remedy this, he stood up and walked towards the entrance, moving in such a way he both avoided the traps and kept the elf within sight at all times.

The elf tracked his passage with too intense eyes, somehow invoking the illusion of being a predator on the hunt, no matter that she was still bound. As he reached the entrance, Ulfric reached for a handful of water from the small stream running down the rocks, never moving his own gaze away from the elf.

"Will you not answer my question, Jarl Ulfric?" the elf asked softly as he rinsed his mouth and spat out the now tainted water.

"No," he returned curtly, still rattled by that... unpleasant awakening. Ulfric reached for another handful of water, this time to sate his thirst. The elf kept watching him with a focus that made his every hackle rise.

The elf who'd saved his life. Funny how that felt almost insignificant when looking at her. Almost.

The elf tilted her head and gave a slow, incredibly aggravating smile.

"Will you at least unbind me?" she asked, full of detached amusement once more. This time, there was no doubt in his mind it was an act.

Her eyes remained too intense.

Ulfric took a final drink and moved towards the elf. He swiftly cut through the fabric binding her feet and hands together, before he laid down her daggers, grasped his sword and moved out of her range.

She was not them. He would not bring dishonor to himself by treating her as though she was.

The elf's pretense of being a hunter faded as she averted those eyes away from him. She stretched her arms above her head and arched her back so sharply, it made his own ache simply by watching. It also made Ulfric become aware of the general soreness of his body from sleeping on the ground.

"Much better," the elf declared in satisfaction as she lowered her arms and rotated both her wrists and ankles. She got to her feet without reaching for her daggers and moved towards where her clothes were laid out. Ulfric performed a few stretches to lessen his own soreness.

The next moments were spent in blessed silence as they both got dressed, took care of bodily needs and prepared to go their separate ways. Dawn had broken only a short while ago, and Ulfric calculated that if he kept up a decent pace, he should be able to reach Riverwood before nightfall tomorrow. From there, he could acquire a horse and continue his way towards Windhelm.

In a way, it was fortunate that the Imperials had confiscated his armor. It meant any looking for him, and the locals as well for that matter, were much less likely to recognize him.

Ulfric would've preferred to return to Windhelm by way of The Rift, but the dragon had forced him to escape more west than he'd liked. Trying to cross into The Rift from his current position would add several weeks to his journey at the very least. There was also the fact that he lacked even the most basic of supplies, and without them, attempting to cross the mountainous terrain that bordered The Rift, would mean near certain death.

Riverwood it was.

"Lead the way, Jarl Ulfric," the elf told him with another aggravating smile as they finished their preparations. Ulfric's suspicion rose sharply.

He understood why the elf had remained with him yesterday, both of them had been weakened and stood a much better chance of survival together than alone. He'd also been too exhausted to think too deeply about the implications of her presence. Now though...

It was rather convenient that a supposedly random prisoner, a high elf of all things, had been taken captive mere hours before they'd arrived at Helgen. It was even more convenient that she'd saved his life and followed him.

The Thalmor, _Elenwen_ , had been present at Helgen as well. Ulfric hoped that the dragon had burned them all to ash. Even better, that it had eaten them alive, drawing out their agony as long as possible–

The point was, the elf's very presence as a prisoner had been nearly too convenient already. The Thalmor's presence at Helgen had made it even more so. Combined with her apparent desire to keep traveling with him, especially after the way he'd treated her, the signs were too much for him to ignore. She had to be a spy for them after all. Except...

Except the elf had been mere moments away from being beheaded before the dragon showed up, and the Thalmor had made no move to interfere. There was also the fact that, from the brief glimpses he'd caught of them after the dragon had begun its rampage, it was more than obvious that the Thalmor had not expected the dragon to show up either.

The quick view he'd caught of one of them screaming in agony as the dragon melted the very flesh from their bones, was one of the most satisfying sights Ulfric had ever witnessed.

"...Why do you wish to accompany me?" he finally demanded of the elf, deciding to give her the benefit of slight doubt.

"Because I have no idea where I am or where to go next," the elf returned with an unsettling grin. Ulfric was beginning to suspect it was the only kind of grin the elf could make.

Her answer made him give her a scornful look. The way the elf had traversed the wilderness made it obvious she'd great experience with traveling off the roads. It had also been obvious she was accustomed to using the Sun as a guide. Which meant her claim of not knowing where they were, was transparently false.

"You look like you don't believe me, Jarl Ulfric," the elf said with an even wider grin.

"I do not," he returned curtly. The elf chuckled.

"I admit, it wouldn't be that difficult to find my way to Whiterun. But that city is still a long way off, and I'd much rather get to another settlement first to restock on supplies. Which is what I'm assuming is your own plan as well. Am I wrong?" the elf finished mockingly.

Ulfric did not believe a word of what she'd said.

"And why is it you need my help to find another settlement?" he countered, because even children knew to follow the rivers in order to find civilisation. Given the elf's experience with traveling the wilderness, she knew how to read the land in order to find those rivers.

"Need is a strong word, I'm certain I'd encounter at least one settlement before reaching Whiterun. But the Imperials confiscated my maps, so I'm also certain that you'd be able to find one much sooner than I could."

Ulfric still did not believe her. The elf tilted her head with a bemused smile.

"Is it merely because I am Altmer that you refuse to believe me?"

Yes.

The elf's smile turned into another unsettling grin.

"Would it help if I said I've killed several Thalmor over the years?"

No, for the elf had no way of proving her claim. Regardless, the words were still pleasant to hear.

His own thoughts made Ulfric realize he was being irrational. If the elf was working for the Thalmor, the most logical thing to do would've been to attack him yesterday, when he'd been exhausted by all that had happened. Not to mention that she'd put her own life at risk in order to save his.

Unless there was a reason she wished to gain his trust. Unless there was specific information she was after.

But perhaps she was not lying. Perhaps the truth was as simple as it appeared, and she was simply a stranger who'd been at the wrong place at the wrong time. A stranger who'd saved his life. Even if she was not, she could still be useful to him. Though he'd have to be careful and ensure he did not reveal any sensitive information.

Ulfric had a great amount of experience with keeping information from high elves.

"You may accompany me," he allowed.

"I'm honored, Jarl Ulfric." The elf's taunt made him regret his decision already. However, Ulfric would not deny the added advantage of having another blade present, especially given his lack of armor. There was also the fact that, given the season, the possibility of heavy rain later on was very real, especially once evening fell. Which meant he... might be forced to share body heat with the elf again.

Ulfric prayed to every God that this would not be necessary.

He started the trek to Riverwood, and the elf followed his lead. At first, their journey was spent in silence. Breakfast was gathered from edible plants along the way, and fresh water was drank whenever they encountered a suitable source. Ulfric kept their pace brisk yet moderated, ensuring they would require the least amount of breaks. He also ensured he never turned his back towards the elf, kept her within sight at all times. For her part, the elf did not seem to be paying him any particular attention.

It gave him the time needed to start processing the events of yesterday, to begin thinking through all the potential consequences.

Both Tullius and _Elenwen_ had been present at Helgen. Both their deaths would be greatly beneficial. Though if Tullius had indeed died, Ulfric hoped his death had been swift.

 _Elenwen_ he hoped had suffered as much as was possible. He hoped she'd suffered more than was possible. Ulfric hoped that, if she'd survived instead, she was so crippled not even _the gift of magic_ could heal it, hoped she was in constant agony every moment of every day.

From a tactical point of view, Tullius' death would be the most advantageous by far. Without the General coordinating Imperial forces, Ulfric would be able to unite all of Skyrim within the year. But until he reached Windhelm, he'd not discover if either Tullius or _Elenwen_ had survived.

Aside from that, there was the dragon itself to consider. Ulfric had no idea how its very existence was even possible, but he knew it would influence the course of the war drastically.

While Ulfric was not so foolish as to believe he could control the beast, if it attacked Imperial subjugated territory, the short term benefits would be immense. Tullius would need to divert his forces to protect Skyrim's people against the beast, creating an opening for Ulfric to exploit. Tullius, who did possess his own brand of honor, no matter how lacking it was, would do so not merely to protect the people, but because he'd need to protect the farms that kept his forces fed. He would also need to protect his supply lines and the general trade and communication routes.

Of course, if the dragon attacked the free Holds, Ulfric would need to do the same, and Tullius would exploit that opening as easily as Ulfric would've exploit his.

Then there were the long term consequences. Even if the dragon did attack only the western Holds, the damage it would cause to Skyrim's people and infrastructure would still weaken her immensely. While it would allow him to wrestle control away from the Empire, Skyrim might be left in a so vulnerable state she'd not be able to withstand an assault from the Dominion. Ulfric did not doubt for a second that the elves would attack at the first sign of weakness.

When factoring this in, killing the dragon was a better course of action. It would ensure Skyrim and her people suffered the least, while also removing the potential for Imperial gain. Except this created another problem, namely, finding a way to kill the dragon in the first place.

Helgen had been crawling with Imperials, yet the dragon had cut through them all with ludicrous ease. Neither arrow nor magic had left even a scratch on its hide, and the sheer devastation its Voice had caused...

Perhaps he could find a way to lure it towards Cyrodiil. Yes, that would weaken the Empire considerably while also protecting Skyrim and her people from the beast.

"Do you have any sightseeing recommendations?" The elf's question pulled him out of his thoughts, made him focus more of his awareness on her.

"Why do you ask?" he countered, having no desire to give the elf any kind of information. Part of the motivation behind that, the most important one, was that she could still be a spy. Another part was caused by his instinctive need to deny the high elf any information she wished to have.

_You test my patience, Nord, in a way it has not been tested in a very long time. Tell me what I wish to know. Now._

While that instinctive need was not the most important factor in his decision, Ulfric would admit to himself it was an extremely close second.

"Because I want to sight see of course," the elf answered as vexing mirth brightened those inhuman eyes further.

"What kind of sightseeing?" he returned in a steady voice. It would not do to alert the elf to his doubts about her. Though Ulfric supposed she was already aware of his general distrust and dislike, as well as the sheer depth of them. Still, there was no sense in being _too_ blatant about it.

"Any kind, really. Though I have a preference for natural sights, especially those that aren't on a map. I like exploring the unknown," the elf answered, and her constant state of detached amusement made it impossible to determine whether she was being truthful or not.

"...It would depend on where you're planning to travel," Ulfric eventually decided to counter. Depending on the elf's reply, he might be able to uncover a more definite sign of where her allegiance laid.

"Haven't decided yet." The elf's casual lack of definite answer made him bite back a derisive scoff. It also made his suspicion rise higher.

"You must have a general destination in mind," he returned evenly, resisting the urge to reach for his sword. The elf hummed softly.

"The whole of Skyrim is my general destination for now. I'm what you'd call a professional wanderer."

"And where have your wanderings taken you before?"

"Valenwood, Elsweyr and Cyrodiil." The elf's prompt reply was almost enough to convince Ulfric that she was indeed a spy. Who else would wander the lands of the Dominion? Except if she was a spy, why be so open about that particular history? Why not lie? Or was it a lie after all? Was it so obvious on purpose to trick him into thinking it was too obvious?

"An interesting choice of places," he returned in another steady voice. It made the elf laugh merrily, before she gave that unsettling grin of hers once more.

"Because they're all part of the Dominion? Aside from Cyrodiil of course, no matter how much the Thalmor wish it was. And Elsweyr's kingdoms are surprisingly independent as well, though they do an astonishing good job of hiding that from the Thalmor. Which is how they managed to remain so independant in the first place of course."

Ulfric did not reply to the elf's false statements, instead giving her a cold look as he allowed his suspicion to be visible now that she'd openly acknowledged she was aware of it. The elf's grin grew.

Truly, none but the beastfolk should be able to show that many teeth at once.

"I'm sorry to disappoint, Jarl Ulfric, but the Thalmor have no influence whatsoever on my wanderings." The ef paused, her grin fading as her brow furrowed thoughtfully. "Well, that's not entirely true I suppose."

Ulfric grasped the hilt of his sword. "Explain yourself," he ordered, and the chuckle the elf let out was almost expected.

If the elf was faking her attitude, she was one of the best actors he'd ever encountered.

"My parents are firm supporters of the Thalmor cause," the elf said and Ulfric immediately came to a halt as he shifted his balance to best be able to attack the elf. "You can imagine their horror when it turned out their only daughter possessed not a drop of magicka," the elf continued as she halted her own movements, showing nothing but a slight increase of being vaguely entertained as she glanced towards the hand holding his sword.

Against his will, Ulfric was becoming more and more convinced that it was not an act.

"When it became clear I wasn't just a late bloomer, they disowned me, put me on the nearest ship to Valenwood and told me to never return. So in a way, the Thalmor did influence my wanderings. The start of them, at least."

The elf talked about being disowned in the way another might talk about the weather. It was... unsettling.

If, and this was still most definitely an if, the elf was not a spy, if this was not an act... then she was disturbingly heartless even for a high elf. It was made even more disquieting by her lack of cruelty, for while she'd been savage in her escape from Helgen, she'd not been sadistic. The elf had shown no sign of enjoyment over the pain she'd caused, and Ulfric was very well versed in recognizing those signs from high elves.

She'd shown no sign of remorse over her actions either. Though of course, that was not unusual for a high elf. Still...

"You seem a little disturbed, Jarl Ulfric. Do you still believe I'm a Thalmor spy?" the elf mocked, and Ulfric... was truly undecided about this. If she was, she was without a doubt the strangest spy he'd ever encountered. If she was not– no, even if she was...

"I believe there is something very wrong with you," he declared truthfully. The elf shrugged, not seeming to care about his words one way or the other.

"I am as the Gods made me. But back to my original question, do you have any sightseeing recommendations?"

"Why did you save me?" he demanded instead of answering her question. The need to survive and his exhaustion had made the question seem unimportant yesterday. Yet now he looked back at her actions and wondered. The elf had saved him not by being in the right place at the right time, she'd saved him on purpose, had even compromised her own safety to do so. Which had led to him saving her own life in return.

Why? What were her motivations? What did she hope to gain from that action?

Those inhuman eyes sharpened and Ulfric tensed up completely as potential violence filled the air. The elf gave a slow smile, one a hunter would give when spotting their quarry.

"Now that, Jarl Ulfric, is a question I'll only answer if you explain the power of your voice first," she stated softly.

Ulfric ignored the instinctive need to refuse her demand, analyzing all the potential consequences of answering her instead. He did not doubt the elf would refuse to answer his own demand otherwise.

The most important factor to consider. Could the elf use this information against him or his people in any way?

...No. There was no chance of Ulfric allowing the elf the opportunity to gag him, and given that she'd been at Helgen, she already knew that was the greatest weakness of Shouting. One did not need to be a genius to be able to deduce that.

They had taken great advantage of that, when they'd–

There was also the fact that general knowledge of the Voice was easy to find within Skyrim, which meant there was no chance of him revealing sensitive information either. True, Ulfric had a far deeper understanding of the Voice than most, but that did not mean he had to reveal more than the barest essentials.

Ulfric allowed himself a harsh breath. Even knowing that answering the elf's question would be harmless, it went against every fiber of his being to do so.

He needed to know why she'd saved him.

"...Very well," he forced himself to agree, and it was physically painful to do so.

The elf let out a sound of pure delight, every part of her radiating victory. Ulfric fought against the immediate urge to take his words back and lash out at her. The elf did not speak, simply watched him with a revolting mixture of satisfaction, expectation and... longing.

Ulfric knew that longing was meant for his answer, not for him. That did not stop him from becoming nauseous.

Biting back a grimace, he answered the elf instead. He told her how it was an ancient form of magic, not powered by magicka, but by the very Words themselves. Told her of the power of Shouting and the devastation it could cause. He even told her of how it took years of dedicated study to Shout even a single Word.

Ulfric did not speak of how the Words felt almost alive, how they never faded once learned. He did not say that the Language altered the very essence of reality, that by knowing the Words, by _understanding_ them, they forever altered your own essence as well. The elf did not need to know these things. Even so, no matter how brief his explanation, the elf appeared more hungry with every word said. It was incredibly unsettling.

"Now answer my question," he finished with a cold look.

For a moment, the elf did not speak, did not move, did not even blink. The air remained thick with the potential for violence. Ulfric could not help but tighten his grip on his sword. The elf tilted her head, and the movement reminded him more of a snake than anything else.

"Why do you think I saved your life, Jarl Ulfric?"

Ulfric clenched his jaw, his frustration spiking sharply.

"Do not play games with me, elf. Answer," he ordered.

The elf smiled, but her act of being amused was betrayed by the tension that refused to fade. Ulfric remained ready to defend himself.

"I don't think you'll like my reason."

Letting out a harsh breath, Ulfric resisted the urge to strike her, to  _hurt_ her so she'd tell him what he wished to know.

He was not them.

"Elf, unless you want to be left behind, you will answer me. Now," he commanded, for while he'd never resort to their methods, there were other ways of getting the information he wanted.

The elf let out a soft, taunting laugh. "The reason is simple. I saved you because I wanted to."

It was becoming more and more difficult to resist the urge to strike her.

"And why did you want to save me?" Ulfric forced himself to demand, hating that he needed to play along the elf's game, no matter how little.

The smile the elf gave in return made a cold shiver race down his spine, and Ulfric drew his sword without almost realizing that he'd done so. It was not because the expression reminded him of them, but because of how it made him feel. A feeling they had never managed to inspire, no matter how hard they'd tried.

The elf's smile made him feel like prey.

"Because you commanded fear and awe even when bound and gagged. Because you fought with captivating power and skill. Because your Voice called to me almost as much as the dragon's did. I wanted to save you, Ulfric Stormcloak, because you are _interesting_."

The elf's smile turned into what could only be called a mockery of a grin at best, an expression that was wild and feral and utterly inhuman.

"There are so very few things that interest me."

It was a threat and promise both. It made Ulfric want to kill her right this instant, kill her for how she was making him feel, kill her so she'd never be able to make good on her words.

It made Ulfric certain that saving this elf's life was one of the worst mistakes he'd ever made.


	3. Chapter 3

Would he attack her?

She couldn't predict the answer, and that wasn't something that happened often. Not even when she'd known someone as briefly as she'd known him, for she was positively amazing at reading people. Yet while he was so very easy to read in some ways, there were others in which he was curiously unpredictable.

For now.

She was, of course, ready to fight back if he did attack her. But then, she was always ready to fight, no matter what else she might be doing. It was one of her many talents. Though in this case, she'd have to be very careful to ensure she didn't fatally injure him by accident, all the while preventing him from fatally injuring her in return.

Given the skill in battle he'd shown, this would be a true challenge to accomplish. She did so love being challenged. She loved it even more when she won, which she always did. She made sure she did.

No matter what.

What could she say, she had a competitive streak. An incredibly strong one too.

He kept teetering on the edge of violence, kept watching her with that particular mixture of vitriolic hatred and animalistic terror the Thalmor were masters at creating. Whenever she encountered someone who despised her as passionately as he did simply for being Altmer, it was nearly always because of a personal experience with the Thalmor. More specifically, because of a prolonged personal experience.

Yet despite that, his treatment of her was remarkably fair. In fact, in some ways it was more fair than many managed after even a brief encounter with the Thalmor.

It was very clear that his own encounter with the Thalmor hadn't been brief. At all.

That fairness was why she couldn't predict whether he'd attack her or not. She didn't know, yet, if his emotional needs were more important to him than his personal sense of right and wrong.

She'd soon find out.

Truly, the uncertainty of it all made her want to laugh with delight. She didn't, but only because she knew it could more than easily tip him towards violence on sheer instinct, and she wanted to see how he'd react when he still had some rationality left. Some, but not much, she'd made very sure of that. With great pleasure too.

She liked provoking people.

He let out a harsh breath, and while the potential for violence didn't disappear, it lessened greatly. He wouldn't assault her unless she made a move first. And because of the restraint he'd just shown, she was now pretty certain it would have to be a physical attack too, not a verbal one.

Unfortunately for him, she adored verbal battles far more than she did physical ones. Not that she didn't enjoy physical fights, but there was a kind of satisfaction in winning with words that nothing else could inspire. Especially now that he'd shown this impressive restraint, for it took a huge amount of willpower to resist the urge to kill when it was as strong as his. Most couldn't manage it, no matter how attached they were to their sense of right or wrong.

It made the prospect of winning with words even more alluring.

It made him a better challenge.

His eyes turned calculating, flashing with thoughts she couldn't discern. Yet. She wondered what he was thinking. Well, obviously he was thinking about his next move, but what were the considerations in play? What were his motivations? What was his reasoning?

She wouldn't ask of course, where was the fun in that? No, she'd observe and speculate, form theories and leisurely test them out one by one. She'd push, prod and pressure until she understood everything there was to know about him. She wouldn't rush this.

Because Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm and leader of the Stormcloak rebellion, was _interesting_. She fully intended to savor that for as long as possible. After all, he wouldn't interest her forever.

Nothing ever did.

However, while he certainly wasn't the most interesting thing she'd ever encountered, he was without a doubt in the top ten, and she held great hopes that he'd continue to interest her for quite some time yet.

It was incredibly astonishing that he actually _wasn't_ the most interesting thing she'd encountered in Skyrim, and that when she'd only just arrived. Then again, who would've ever expected to find a dragon of all things?

Who could've ever expected that mesmerizing Voice. Those mesmerizing Words.

Words that called to her in a way nothing ever had. Words that made her very soul cry out in yearning.

Words she'd stop at nothing to possess.

The most intriguing thing of all?

Ulfric Stormcloak's voice could become almost as mesmerizing as the dragon's. Those Shouts he'd used in battle...

Oh so interesting indeed. The risk she'd taken in saving him had been more than worth it. When adding in the dragon as well...

Without a doubt, coming to Skryim was one of the best decisions she'd ever made.

* * *

 

Ulfric had come to an incredibly difficult decision.

The elf was allowed to accompany him to Riverwood. However, if she attempted to follow him after that, he'd leave her tied up on the side of the road. If she was extremely fortunate, the first to find her would be travelers who'd take pity on her and free her. If she was unfortunate, a quick death was one of the kinder fates that could befall her.

This decision had not been taken lightly. In fact, it had taken the greatest of efforts to keep himself from attacking the elf after her threat. The only reason he'd succeeded, at first, was because the elf had _wanted_ him to attack. Or rather, she'd wanted to provoke the most intense reaction possible.

Ulfric would not give the high elf that satisfaction. Ever.

That was how he'd managed to keep himself from attacking her. But the decision to allow her to keep accompanying him until Riverwood had taken more time to reach.

The motivation behind his decision was not rational, though it did have some few advantages. Namely, Ulfric was in a painfully vulnerable state, and would remain so until he could reacquire supplies at Riverwood. The elf lessened that vulnerability in some ways.

In most ways, she worsened them to a point they were almost unbearable.

However, despite all the elf's many provocations, she'd yet to make a move to attack him. She taunted, mocked and threatened, but until now, she'd shown no sign of initiating hostilities. Even last night, when there'd been the promise of death should he attempt to gag her, it had not been backed by physical actions. So Ulfric was forced to admit that while the elf's presence was _unbelievably_ aggravating and infuriating, she'd not given him a valid reason to abandon her. Yet.

She'd saved his life. She'd aided him from the very moment they'd escaped Helgen. No matter the ulterior motives behind those actions, it would be dishonorable to abandon her when the elf was in just as dire straits as he was.

Sometimes, Ulfric hated what his honor demanded of him. But he'd never act against it.

His honor was what separated him from them. His honor was how he'd managed to piece himself back together after– After.

So with _incredible_ reluctance, Ulfric had informed the elf she was allowed to accompany him to Riverwood, but no further. He'd also warned of what he'd do if she attempted to follow.

The soft laughter the elf let out in return had made his hackles rise even further. But mercifully, she kept quiet as they continued their journey. Which allowed Ulfric to work through the hatred he knew was clouding his judgement and think over his decision with more clarity.

Unfortunately, his decision remained the only one his honor would permit. Even more unfortunately, common sense dictated he find out as much as possible about the elf. To look for definite signs of whether she was a spy or not, to figure out what her ulterior motives were. Which meant he had talk to her.

Wonderful.

"Why were you captured by the Imperials?" he demanded, and the delighted smile the elf gave in return made him regret his decision to allow her to stay even more.

"You know, I'm not sure. I have a rather impressive bounty in some parts of Cyrodiil, but not one so big that the Imperials here should've known about it. I also crossed the border illegally, through that again raises the question of how they could've known about that. Or it could've been merely because I'm Altmer. I don't know if you're aware, Jarl Ulfric, but the Empire _really_ doesn't like the Thalmor," the elf mocked as laughter brightened her inhuman eyes even further. Ulfric clenched his jaw and resisted the urge to hit her. "Consequently, they really don't like Altmer in general. What are three places in Skyrim every visitor should see?"

"When did you arrive in Skyrim?" he countered, for her mention of crossing the border made it clear she'd not been here for long. If she was telling the truth, at least.

The elf shook her head and gave him a chiding look as though he was nothing more than a dull witted child. Ulfric's desire to hit her grew.

"No, that's not how this works. If you want me to answer your questions, you'll have to answer mine in return."

Ulfric allowed himself a pained grimace. Of course the elf would turn this into a game. He did not doubt that she'd refuse to answer his questions unless he played along either. Damn his honor for refusing to let him hurt or abandon her. And damn his practicality for pointing out that the need to gather information outweighed his desire not to answer. Especially because the elf's question was... theoretically harmless.

"...High Hrothgar, the Blue Palace and the Skyforge." The elf would have to use another question if she wanted him to clarify what or where those were. "When did you arrive in Skyrim?" he repeated, not bothering to hide his disgust. Both for the elf herself and this entire situation.

"I think I crossed the border ten days ago, though I'm not completely certain, it could be nine or eleven as well. I wasn't exactly following the official routes, so no welcome sign for me. What's your favorite color?"

Why did– no, more importantly, what would she be able to deduce from his answer?

...Nothing important. Knowing a person's favorite color did not grant some profound insight in how they worked.

It was still physically painful to give the elf information about himself, no matter how theoretically harmless it was. Of course, Ulfric could lie, but that was something he _deeply_ disliked doing. Something he'd disliked even before they'd–

Lying when his only true motivation was because the question had been asked by a high elf...

Ulfric despised the thought of them controlling him like that a fraction more than he desired to keep information from the elf.

"...Blue. How did you get captured by the Imperials?" Because now that his mind was no longer clouded by exhaustion, it was incredibly suspicious that they could've managed that unless the elf had intended for it to happen. She'd shown herself to be a skilled warrior at Helgen, yet he was supposed to believe a three men scouting party had somehow managed to knock her unconscious without even one dying in the attempt?

"Through a string of bad luck so improbable, it can only have been Divine intervention. Not that I'm complaining, it led me to your delightful company after all."

Ulfric gave the elf a cold look and despised her for how her smile grew.

"That did not answer my question, elf."

The elf chuckled.

"Well, if you insist on the details." And so the elf told him about the events that had led up to her capture. Ulfric was forced to admit that if her words were true, it did seem as though the Gods themselves had intervened.

Against his will, the sheer implausibility of it all made him inclined to believe her. Who would ever say something so outrageous unless it was true? Not to mention she'd told the entire story without ever contradicting herself. She'd also told it all in a smooth and natural way, yet not so smoothly that it sounded rehearsed. And whenever he'd deliberately interrupted her to order her to clarify on irrelevant details, she'd never needed too much time to answer, nor to pick up her story again from where she'd last left off. But she'd not needed too little time either.

Even accomplished liars showed signs of falsehood, subtle or overt, if one knew what to look for. This elf showed none of them. Which meant she was most likely telling the truth.

"My turn. Is it true people here provoke giants just to see how high the creatures can throw them?"

Ulfric allowed himself another pained grimace, before he forced himself to answer the elf's absurd question.

The answer was no, they did not. Not unless they wished to commit suicide in a truly spectacular manner, though of course Ulfric did not add that last part out loud. Then he demanded why the elf had come to Skyrim.

Her answer of becoming bored with Cyrodiil and Skyrim being the nearest country when that happened, was almost more expected than it was suspicious.

Almost.

By the time Ulfric finally felt confident enough to conclude that the elf was not a spy, for them at least, she'd not only gotten on his last nerve, she knew an _extremely_ uncomfortable amount of... theoretically harmless facts about him. More specifically, she knew his favorite color, food, animal and season.

Ulfric had gotten a headache. But it was worth it, for aside from the assurance that she was not a spy for them, he now had a better grasp on the elf's character. He'd also come to an illuminating realization.

The elf was insane. This was true for all high elves of course, but this elf's particular brand of insanity was one he'd never encountered in her kind before.

Even for a high elf, she was exceptionally selfish, caring for nothing but herself, yet she did not seem to desire riches or power. She was utterly indifferent to any suffering or death not her own, yet she was not sadistic. She constantly radiated that aggravating sense of innate superiority that was so familiar to him, yet apparently felt no need to announce it to the world. She mocked and taunted all the time, yet never made a hostile move. She held neither fear nor respect for him, yet she followed his orders without any sign of reluctance or disgust. Not even hidden ones.

She acted as though the entire world was a game created for her amusement.

In some ways, this elf acted like no other of her kind. At her core, she was just the same as any high elf. Arrogant, selfish and heartless.

This conclusion made it a fraction easier to be within her presence, putting him on more familiar footing. Ulfric knew how to deal with high elves like her after all.

A shame his honor did not allow him to act on those urges.

After coming to this realization, Ulfric ordered the elf to shut up, and with an amused chuckle, she did. Her easy obedience made his suspicion rise sharply once more, but Ulfric was aware that it was... most likely unfounded.

That did not stop him from becoming more and more vexed by the elf's presence as time passed, no matter that she kept quiet the entire time. Because she kept quiet the entire time. Because she acted as though she was merely taking a stroll in a park, because she frequently gave him looks of speculation that made his every hackle rise.

Because she existed.

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

 

He was right, the day seemed to stretch on forever. By the time they set up camp in a long ago abandoned mine with enough kindle to make the fire last the night, Ulfric's body was aching and tired and his mood could not get any worse.

Except, of course, it did, for after consuming the rabbits they'd hunted for dinner, the elf began talking. Because clearly this entire situation was not awful enough already.

"Will you indulge me with a story about dragons?"

"No," he refused before he'd even made the conscious decision to do so. That did not mean he wanted to take his refusal back.

"Why not?" the elf countered with a grin.

"Because I refuse," he returned curtly. The elf did not seem frustrated by his refusal. If anything, she became a little more more entertained.

It was infuriating.

"But I want to hear a story about dragons. It seems we are at an impasse, Jarl Ulfric."

Ulfric bit back an instinctive retort, keeping quiet instead. Hopefully the elf would give up if he refused to play along.

The widening of that unsettling grin indicated that this was a fool's hope.

"Or we could do something else. Something more intimate perhaps?"

Ulfric tensed, involuntary nausea surging with a vengeance. Not merely because of the elf's words, but because of the inhuman eyes wandering down his body with that abhorrent appreciation. He kept silent.

The elf smiled in a way some might consider alluring. "Truly, am I that repulsive?"

Yes.

The elf laughed softly and those eyes became even brighter with _desire_. Ulfric almost shivered with disgust.

"Such a shame. I find you quite attractive after all."

Ulfric grit his teeth and struggled to keep quiet.

"I wonder how you taste, how you sound when caust in the throes of plea–"

" _Shut up_ ," he snapped as his control broke, nauseous and enraged and–

 _No_ , he would _not_ give in, neither to the memories nor this trice cursed elf.

"I'll shut up if you tell me a story about dragons," the elf immediately returned, and her mocking mirth made him want to hit her _so much_.

Ulfric gave very serious consideration to the notion of gagging her.

The elf's amusement vanished, replaced by a promise of death that made him instantly reach for his sword.

"Attempt to take my voice, Ulfric Stormcloak, and no matter how much you interest me, I _will_ kill you."

The ease with which she'd discerned his thoughts was unbelievably unsettling. At the same time, Ulfric almost felt more comfortable now that the potential for violence smothered the air. He knew how to deal with situations like this.

Except he was fairly certain that the elf would not fight him unless he attacked her first. Which his honor did not allow him to do. Damn it all, everything would be so much easier if the elf would just attack–

Ulfric clenched his jaw. He was being irrational, and it was all the elf's fault.

"You're quick to accuse without cause," he stated derisively, for while it was true he'd been thinking of gagging her, he'd not spoken any word of it. He also had no desire to put the elf at ease.

His honor might not allow him to provoke her into attacking first, but that did not mean he had to be polite. At all.

Yet after another moment of tension, the elf smiled and became vaguely entertained once more, the sense of lethal danger fading as suddenly as it had appeared.

"It wasn't an accusation, Jarl Ulfric, just a warning."

"And of course you find it perfectly reasonable to threaten a man with death for the mere assumption he might gag you," he returned scatingly. The elf grinned and gave an irreverent shrug.

"Call it one of my pet peeves. And really, isn't it more polite to be upfront about it instead of killing someone without letting them know the reason?"

Ah yes, Ulfric had almost forgotten this elf's particular brand of insanity was not the same as others of her kind.

He bit back a tired sigh. This elf was exhausting.

"So will you tell me a story about dragons?"

She was also unbelievably annoying. But if given the choice between a fight to the death, listening to her repulsive "flirtations" or giving in to her request...

What wonderful choices he had. Still, one was... not less awful, but given the limitations his honor imposed, it was the most beneficial thing to do. Unfortunately.

"...If you shut up for the rest of the night, I'll tell you a story," he forced himself to offer.

"A story about dragons?" the elf returned instantly with a delighted smile that made him want to smash her nose in.

"Yes," he reluctantly agreed instead. "But _only_ if you'll shut up," he added harshly.

"Deal," the elf returned in a satisfied voice while those inhuman eyes gleamed with _victory_.

Ulfric hated her.

"Break your word, elf, and I'll gut you," he warned coldly, even as a large part of him desperately hoped she'd do just that.

He'd given her fair warning. If she still broke her word, he was allowed to make good on his threat. It would be harsh, yes, but not dishonorable.

In response, the elf gave another unsettling grin. Of course she did.

"Jarl Ulfric, you make it sound like you don't enjoy my company."

What gave it away.

"Elf, shut up and listen," he ordered. With an almost expected chuckle, the elf obeyed. Her easy acquaintance remained just as unsettling as before, no matter that the alternative was even worse.

As Ulfric deliberated on which story to tell, the elf shifted her position from being casually seated, to lounging across the floor as insolently as possible. It was incredibly aggravating to see.

Ulfric made up his mind on what story to tell. Of course, he was planning on keeping it brief, for while he'd agreed to tell the elf a story, he'd not promised to make it a long one. But he'd not merely rattle the facts off either.

Even if his audience was a high elf, he would not disrespect the art of storytelling like that. And who knew, perhaps the elf might even learn something from it. Ulfric highly doubted this would happen, but it was still theoretically possible. Stranger things had happened after all. Like his life being saved by a high elf. Or Ulfric saving the life of a high elf. Or a dragon appearing. So really, Ulfric was simply adding another impossible thing to that list.

He told a high elf the story of Olaf One-Eye and the dragon Numinex.

Voluntarily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear, this is not a story about good or evil, this is just a story about people. It's also a dumping ground for my own headcanon about the Dragonborn, because seriously, having the soul of a dragon has got to have more effects than just being able to learn Shouts without almost any effort.

**Author's Note:**

> My [tumblr](https://loekas.tumblr.com/)


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